The pretty little three or four year old girl was alone…….almost. When her father intervened in a dispute between two men they turned on him and killed him. Soon thereafter her mother was killed by lightening. The child had ear infections.

The oldest of her three brothers were teenagers. The four lived in a mud house with a straw roof in a remote village. Relatives decided an orphanage wouldbe best for her. Maybe there she would get medical attention for her ears. She didn’t.

In 2007 then eight year old Fetlework and a six year old deaf boy, Yonatan, “came home” to their forever family in America.

Four years later the location of the biological brothers and the village had been found and a visit was arranged. There was a large extended family of poor subsistence farmers who live near the brothers, among them her paternal grandmother!

Grandma’s Kitchen

Grandmother, eighty nine, is blind and spends all her time on a hard ledge in her little mud house.

Her only comfort is an animal skin cover between her and the “bed” where she sits or reclines. Nearby is an open fire of twigs or cow dung to keep her buna (coffee) warm.

Grandma’s “Stove.” The fuel is twigs and cow dung

Surrounding the fire on ledges and in niches are her earthen cookware, a few modern artifacts and gallon plastic oil cans.

The cans are used to carry muddy water from the watering hole in the valley.

Ethiopian Child will help Gurane Village dig a well. The clean water will help keep Grandmother and the small children healthy. You can help by donating. Click “donate” in the column on the right.

They are intelligent, engaging, beautiful healthy HIV positive orphan girls. Thirteen other people live in the

"My" girls

same tiny little house in Addis Ababa, Capital city of Ethiopia.

The younger sister plays soccer, the older does hair braiding in her cousin’s shop which is attached to street side of the painted stick and mud house.

The older of the two writes and asks me to find a “forever” family in the U.S.A for them. She tells others she wants “Poppy” (the name our grandchildren use for me) to adopt them. We are in our seventies.

We can’t.

The Ethiopian government only allows photos to be made available to interested parties.

The four wheel drive car turned right off the pavement and began to wend it’s way through people, donkeys and occasionally dogs. Dust swirled around the tires as we began our decent into the valley. Everywhere there are small farm plots being prepared for the rains which (hopefully) soon are to come. We crossed the “river” which is little more than a ditch and drove across the valley.
Wheat, teff, peas and beans are the main crops here. They can all be harvested and stored. There is no electricity hence no refrigeration.
Finally we arrive at Gurane Village Ethiopia, on one of the many small hills scattered across the valley. At the foot of the hill the ground is level and flat enough for farmers to do their threshing. Animals walk in a circle, their hooves crush the seed heads and separate the grain from the stalk. I am reminded of King David and the threshing floor he bought thousands of years ago. The technology hasn’t changed here.

A few months prior Charlie had visited and asked Zerihun, older brother of adopted granddaughter Fetlework: “How can we help?” Three boys and the youngest child, a girl, became orphans years ago when both parents had died. The girl, Fetlweork, was deaf and went to an orphanage and eventually to our family. The boys stayed in the village.

Zerihun’s priorities had changed from a year before. Then he wanted “seed” money to open a small shop. Now his responsibilities have grown from himself and a younger brother. He has taken a wife.

Zerihun and his Bride, Zenash

We had told him “we don’t give money.” Now he would like to rent more land for farming and buy a second ox which means he would no longer need to rent someone else’s. He needed a team for plowing. He may even be able to rent out his team instead.

We decided Zerihun is a responsible young man and, contrary to our word, gave him the needed funds with one stipulation: “God has blessed you with this. When your next harvest is complete and you have made a profit you must help someone else.” We shook hands and it was done.

Now we have returned for, among other purposes, to see his ox. He was proud as he opened the gate and showed us. It is big, black, healthy and strong looking. He did well. So well, he had purchased the ox for less then market price. There was “Extra” money.

Zerihun is not one to waste an opportunity. Their house is made of sticks and mud.

Current Residence

The straw roof and walls are deteriorating. It is where they were born.

He can gather the needed poles and when the rains come he can make mud but really, a tin roof is better. With the additional funds he purchased the tin. The tin is in the house for safe keeping, leaning against the wall.

Now he can take down the old one and build a nice new, dry house for his bride.

There are other orphans in Gurane. As we identify them and determine their needs maybe you will help us help them?

It was a typical ride through the city. There were near misses with taxis, buses, donkeys and people. A cacophony of sounds (and sights) assailed our senses as the driver maneuvered the ancient, overloaded Toyota mini van taxi through the chaos that is the streets of Addis Ababa Ethiopia. He missed the final turn. I informed him, he backed down the street against oncoming traffic and miraculously was able to carry us to our destination unscathed.
We had arrived at Agohelma Orphanage where four years ago we loaded then eight years old Fetlework into a thirty year old little blue and white taxi and whisked her away to another world.
I was honored to accompany daughter Rebecca and her husband Vernon for that experience. Now we had returned in the process of the adoption of two more Ethiopian orphans. Fetlework and Yonatan, both deaf, joined Mom and Dad to reunite with biological siblings and visit other memorable locations.

We entered the compound and disembarked. Down the slope (almost nothing is level in Ethiopia) we saw a group of ladies who were obviously American or European. They looked up and one exclaimed: “Just a few minutes ago I said I guess I’ll never see Fetlework again!”

They were a group of from a Lutheran ministry in Sweden visiting locations where they sponsored children and had just looked at photos of Fetlework on the wall from when she was a small child. A few minutes after they exited the room there was Fetlework walking toward them.

Hugs, kisses, introductions, photos, more photos and it was time to go.